"The gallant slashers."
"I should be sorry to leave the Highlanders,—one of our most dashing national regiments."
"Your taste appears to be consulted admirably. Look at this Gazette in the next paper. '92nd Highlanders.—Brevet-major Colin Campbell to be major, vice Macdonald, appointed to the 8th Garrison Battalion; Lieut. Macdonald to be captain, vice Campbell; Lieut. Ronald Stuart, from the 28th foot, to be lieutenant, vice the Honourable Sholto Douglas, who exchanges."
"Excellent!" exclaimed Stuart, as they shook hands. "I shall be with you still: Cameron has planned this matter, surely. But this Honourable Sholto,—I have never had the pleasure of seeing him."
"Oh! he has been on the staff in Ireland for these three years past. A drawing-room soldier, that has no idea of bivouacks and tough ration beef,—fording rivers up to the neck, and having forced marches of forty miles. Sholto has kept himself clear of these matters, and is consequently no favourite with the chief—Cameron, I mean; the warning he gave me about that title at San Pedro must not be forgotten. I wish you joy heartily, Ronald, notwithstanding you are promoted over my head. However, I am near the top of the ensigns, and the next engagement may provide for some of the seniors. We must wet the new commission to-night in glorious style; and, hark! firing, by Jove! The out-picquets are engaged! Soult is at it again." Drawing back the door of the tent, they saw the flashes of musquetry and gleam of steel appear on the Santa Martha road, and wreaths of white smoke curling up among the rocks and broken ground between showing that a running skirmish had commenced. The noise of the firing became more rapid and loud, and then died away; and the Spanish cavalry were seen sword in hand, pursuing the French at full gallop. The Condé Penne Villamur had repelled the attack of the French cuirassiers, and having defeated them, rashly left his ground in pursuit along the road to Santa Martha; where, falling into an ambush of several squadrons of horse, his Spaniards were almost all cut to pieces. Don Alvaro, at the head of his lancers, charged madly through and through them, and brought off the condé, after a most desperate and bloody conflict fought hand to hand with sword and spear, amid which the gay and brave young Marquess of Montesa was slain, being "cloven to the teeth, through steel and bone," by Louis Chateaufleur, a major of cuirassiers, mentioned by De Mesmai in preceding chapters. Alvaro was so severely wounded by a sword-thrust between the joints of his breast and back-plate, that he was rendered unserviceable for some time; and procuring leave, departed for Idanha-a-Velha, where Donna Inesella still resided.
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARCH TO TOLEDO.
"O, leeze me on the philabeg,
The hairy knee and gartered leg!
But aye the thing that glads my e'e,
Is the white cockade aboon the bree."
Jacobite Song.
Sir Rowland Hill, finding that the French marshal lacked determination to attack his strong position at Albuera, resolved to assail his legions in their quarters at Santa Martha, for which place the whole division marched on the morning of the 1st July. The enemy retired as usual before him, their rear-guard skirmishing with the cavalry advance of the British, who suffered some loss at forcing the passage of the Guadacia, upon the ford of which the French brought their flying-artillery to bear; and against Berlenza some fighting ensued, and Ronald Stuart narrowly escaped being cut in two by an eighteen-pound shot from the enemy's guns. Many weeks were consumed in tedious marching and skirmishing, in which there was neither glory nor gain to be acquired; and right glad were the second division when the route for the gay city of Aranjuez, the Windsor of Spain, reached them while stationed at the dull and uninteresting town of Don Benito.
At Llerena, a town romantically situated at the base of the huge Sierra San Bernardo, they received intelligence of the glorious victory won by Lord Wellington's army over that of Marshal Marmont on the field of Salamanca; and learned that Joseph, the ci-devant king of Spain, had been driven from his usurped throne, and compelled to establish his head-quarters in the city of Valencia.